


Wait For It: Leia

by madame_alexandra



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Healing, Internal Monologue, POV Leia Organa, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_alexandra/pseuds/madame_alexandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leia's thoughts: realizing she has a reason to live, and she's glad she has her life. (insp. by Lin-Manuel Miranda) / Companion Piece: Wait for It: Han. [Might be best to read this one after Han's, but order doesn't really matter]. Han/Leia. Sort of Meta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait For It: Leia

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: companion piece to 'Wait for It: Han'. still inspired by ... American founding fathers. in a roundabout way. you're inside Leia's head leading up to Han's 'I Love You' on Endor. i'd recommend reading Han's first, since her confession is chronologically first.

**_Wait For It_ **

**Leia**

* * *

She often wondered what cruel accident of fate ensured her survival. Every morning when she woke, and every night, when she lay her head down for troubled sleep, she struggled with the dull, ever-present burden of her own endurance; she grappled with guilt over the very fact that she lived when every single person who had ever loved her and who she had loved with all of her being– when a whole planet full of her people – was gone.

She tried to understand why she remained, why _she_ kept evading death even in those moments when she threw herself so recklessly into the face of it. She wasn't suicidal per se; Alderaan's destruction had left her with nothing but a torched and broken heart that beat for revenge so ultimate that she couldn't rest until she saw it served – but she wasn't _careful_ , and there were any number of times when she was sure the reaper had drawn her number – and yet, and _yet_ –

She lived – no, she _existed_ ; in the aftermath of Alderaan and the Battle of Yavin, she managed to continue on physically unscathed, present in the temporal realm, no matter how many times the odds were impossible, and each and every time she found herself embattled yet victorious, bruised and bloodied yet _breathing_ , she thought there must be something that providence had in store for her, something that was anchoring her to a galaxy and a life that had become a graveyard to her when her planet and her people had gone.

There was nothing she could do but anticipate the revelation, wait for the manifestation of her purpose – she knew she wasn't the savior of the Rebel Alliance; that was Luke, Luke and all of his fledgling yet formidable power – she was a leader, that was certain, but the Alliance had leaders before her, and they would have leaders after her if she died – she felt her destiny lay somewhere beyond the Rebellion, and as she made her way through each new day with an uncertain future at her fingertips.

She tried to discern what the stars had written for her.

The further away from Alderaan's demise she got, the more lost she often felt; the closer victory over the Empire crept, the more she wondered what reason she had to survive the final showdown at all – the galaxy would start to fall back into place, and she'd be an outdated, archaic symbol of things that died at the hands of the Sith.

And then...it became clear over time, so gradually at first, and then so _blindingly_ all at once. It became clear in an endless amount of petty arguments and verbal sparring matches; it became clear in snarky, back-and-forth bickering that hit too close to home for both of them, and it became clear in unspoken ways – the way in which an adrenaline-fueled hug after the destruction of the first Death Star could open the door to a timid first kiss on the _Falcon,_ to quiet, private nights spent in his bunk away from prying eyes, to a desperate _public_ declaration in Cloud City – to a connection that she needed, and craved, and valued more than anything she'd had in her life thus far, more than anything she'd ever thought she'd have when she was merely a Princess; a political chess piece.

She'd only ever dreamed of romantic love in the abstract, because she knew she'd be subject to an arranged marriage, and after her world collapsed, she imagined she'd never feel _anything_ again, much less find someone who could make her feel as loved and as safe as she once had on her home world – so when she fell in love with him, it hit her like the unbearable rays of a desert sun, and then like the unexpected bolt of a blaster. She was paralyzed, injured, but that feeling, that emotion he evoked, it drew her forward, it kept her alive.

She'd asked for a reason to go on, and it had been given to her in the most unlikely of places – in the most unlikely of men. He told her once, sometime before the final battle, that she made him a better person; that she reminded him of who he'd wanted to be, when he was younger. She'd looked at him and wondered _– is he why I never succumbed to defeat?_

It all came down to a moment of conflict, a moment on the still-smoking battlefield forest, with their lives all in the balance, with the fate of freedom throughout the galaxy in her hands, and a blaster bullet to the shoulder that took her breath away and provoked a split second of panic, a flicker of desperation – _stay alive,_ a voice in her head repeated, for the first time in years, _stay alive –_

Han leaned over her, his face full of concern, nerves – and she looked at him, unblinking, and held her blaster to her ribs, meeting his eyes with purpose; he saw the gun, and his lips turned up –

"I love you," he said gruffly.

\- and everything clicked into place, _everything;_ she'd been patient and impatient for so long, and she'd waited for so _long,_ to find something, some _reason_ , for her life to still matter in spite of everything she'd loved and lost –

"I know," she said – she _knew;_ she'd known for so long that he was there for her, but hearing it in his voice, hearing those words from him – it was _enough_.

She fired the blaster over his shoulder at the enemy, and adrenaline and confidence kept her grip steady – and when the bullet hit its mark, she felt a surge of triumph; she felt victory on the horizon, and she felt lucky to be alive – lucky, not punished. She _wanted_ to be alive, and she was fiercely, utterly convinced that the wait for that feeling had been worth it - and the future she was going to have with him was worth it.

* * *

_"...and if there's a reason I'm still alive when everyone who loves me has died_  
 _I'm willing to wait for it..."_  
\- Lin-Manuel Miranda / Hamilton: Wait For It

* * *

.

**Author's Note:**

> if none of y'all have ever heard of 'Hamilton,' you probably think i'm crazy. but, Force4Ham.  
> -alexandra


End file.
